once again I
stumble on the
road eternal,

a friend stirs
my embers, and
I light up again,

a distant presence
of youth, balance,
calm, possibilities

dance a riotous
rollick within,
hollering, hollering

adventure

the joy of
having a few
currency notes
in the jeans pocket,

and floating through
the day in careless
glee is all but over,
they tax our hearts,

they tax our minds,
plying election dreams
and lust for drugged
drowsy seats of power,

down with leisure!
their cattle call.

pronounced now in
their diminishing magic,

over the populous, rash,
self-destructive, tragic,

refuge for the scatter-hearted,
giant cover for the romantic,

trees for memories, smiles,
journeys, and paths nomadic

listen
listen
closely,

even the sheets
and blankets
that you unfurl
before curling
into the night,

speak sleep.
with a hush
and a full stop.

it is when
I didn't try
that I failed,

for in trying
is emerald
richness,

a rich coat
of lavish
paint on

life canvas,
those who
dragged

themselves
out of iron
habit and

made the run,
breathing each
step as a drop,

and in keen
awareness
gently match

the heart's
beat to earth's
vigour, to feel

blood throbbing
within, to find
oneself is enough,

to try is to be
one with the
invincible gods...

beware!
the lure of
the indoors,

watch how it
seeps an ennui
in your bones,

do not engage,
hatch an escape,
step out unguarded,

let's trace the world
as our first ancestors
must have,

to awake, discover
anew, breath, light,
vision, flair...

we are not
a country,
we are not
patriots,

just
individuals,
meant to follow
our heart,

the rest
is ingrained,
indigested,
strained
into us,

we are not
borders,
we are not
boundaries,

we are much
more than flags,
shrouds and
two days in a
year of

tricolours...

who am I?
is where
it begins...

and when the
fierce rays
canvas across

my face, I know
that loneliness
is only a myth,

among trees,
there is none
as benign as

the sun

the night ambled
into a snug corner

tiptoed round itself
in a quarter circle

sparked against its
own purring fur and

fell into a dreamless
pit, whiskers whispering

s a y o n a r a . . .

to be assured
of a roof above
my head,

and a mother
who will cook
for me lovingly,

nothing is so
damning as
absolute safety,

I am the human
cat this fading
winter, wait

and I may soon
grow whiskers,
the days fling

away like speeding
scenery from a
train window,

I sing my
death song,
tomorrow,

tomorrow...

dog
on a
leash

used
to
it

one night
when I can walk out
and see the stars again
flooding a clear upturned
sky bowl like still lanterns,

I will say
this is my home!
this is my city!

one day
when I wake to the
morning calls of birds
and a solemn flood of
silence at daybreak,

I will say
this is my home!
this is my city!

one afternoon
drowsy and calm,
settling into a book
as dogs lay sideways
under umpteen trees,

I will say
this is my home!
this is my city!  

and in evenings
spent in undisturbed
meetings and charm,
and roads untarnished
bright-lit and sparse,  

I will say
this is my home!
this is my city!  

I know I will have
to go in search of one,
waiting is a hazardous
stagnancy except in love,
for where the peace is,

I will say
is my home!
is my city!

come and see,
come and see,
the night is free,

even if the
years have
melted in

candle wax,
a stir of a
song and

they still
dance to
it's beat

feet...

winter dawn
sparrows tail-dancing
atop the tall grass

already awaiting
another summer,

in great stillness,
to spread out over

the pruned grass and
mingle with the gentle

sway of the flowering
gulmohars...

and when you
float into my
dream

bubble

make an
O of my lips
and gift you

flight

never fails to set
the heart into a
run

when with her
molten fingers she
tames her hair

into a bun

in uncertainty
the certainty
of adventure

without you

no sea shore
no songbird
no starlight

no thunder
no rain

no laughter
no pain

no morose mornings
no calm, rolling nights

without you

you bid the shore away,
broken bangle shapes,
the clear water makes,

your form is a magnet,
I am drawn to you,
and at this moment,

love is you

the night is you,
you are the night

dark as thy tress,
deep as your eyes,

as the sea roars over
a lost bird's frantic cries,

the night is you
you are the night

Who looks up at the
Buxom moon?
The city is drowned
In its own grimness.

Night writes
To Day,

Return at my darkest
End,
Sprinkle color of a
Temporary death,

Then at evening
I write again

The meeting place
Of two friends...

The island writes
To the shore,
Don't build a bridge...
I want to be a stranger
To the world's end.

she grazes
the soul,
tumult in
her coming,

the pang
of proximity,
dew heavy
over exotic petal,

her absence
bullet-riddled
over umpteen
male faces,

a gnawing
melancholy,
restlessly at
high tide,  

a massacre
of butterflies,
a massacre
of butterflies,

crushed torn
powdered
ash dust
in flight  

a massacre
of butterflies,
a massacre
of butterflies,

we take the corner seats,  
we wild animals in heat
wait for the lights to die,  
and then in one soft sigh,
run a hand over your thigh

dog
all night long
dog
your old song
dog
all night long

how
your friends  
yelp
growl  howl
dog
your old song

dog
all night long
dog
mad decibel gall  
dog
your old song

dog
one pelts stone
dog
guard flings stick
dog
your old song

dog
your old song
dog
your old song
dog
all night long

run
dog
run
dog
run

early
tomo'
morn

dog
catcher
prowling

run
dog
run
dog
run

run
dog
run
dog
run

the bumble bee
finds me
a ribald joke

hell bound
to poke
into me

an ancient song
of its folk

when I laugh,
the whole body
one big mouth
of laughter

when I sing
words emit
like a seismo-
seismograph

If I squat, drowsy,
all my teeth are
melting down
a whirlpool

walk, look back
and wonder,
whose vanishing
footsteps
are they
meanwhile,

my as-lost-as-me
friends, frantic for
shade in the sun
and can't find it

together, like a
splash of colours,
we loll in the garden
for the madness to pass

later, at home they ask
about the blood red
eyes, I say, it was
some colour, some holi

fingers to imbibe
sculpture of a body,  
skin I will caress
drop by drop,  
cloud thy golden-
rayed spread form,

sip honey sweetness,
bee wings flapping,
steaming musk,
fireflies illumine,
on a blue valley of
an anonymous realm,
we shall alight

the words and us,
drip, globular, suckle,
kiss , ripple, river

just sitting here
with stiff legs
a stone face

when I swivel
it is to swivel
at a single place  

not going anywhere
am your swivel chair
not going anywhere
am your swivel chair

have long stopped longing
for adventure and smiles
have discarded all things
that enlivened me inside  

have no life, do not care
am not going anywhere
am your swivel chair

you look like me
I look like you

each passing year
we just wait here
for no person
for no place
for all things to
magically change

like two brothers
rusting together
like two brothers
rusting together  

just sitting here
with stiff legs
a stone face

when I swivel
it is to swivel
at a single place  

am not going anywhere
am your swivel chair
am not going anywhere
am your swivel chair

life
you don't want to live

ways
you don't want to earn

friends
you would rather not make

girls
you wouldn't talk to again

this
death silence is your making

tell
me you didn't see it coming

self-destruction
mutates in myriad ways

sometimes
oh so quietly and

kaboom!
right in your suicidal-in-waiting face

once in a while go hither,
where man hasn't choked earth to tar

once in a while go thither,
where flowers sway golden, buds ajar

once in a while ponder,
trees helicoptering a stray, twirling shape

once in a while dash out,
away from gloomy computer haze,

once in a while stroll aimless,
down a narrow, dark mysterious lane

once in a while gauging,
the  kite's whirling escapades

once in a while go hither,
where Frost chose a less traveled path

once in a while go thither,
where you desire but hesitate in act

once in a while on a calm night,
when you go cascading on a dream

once in a while when years,  
have withered you to skeletal bane

all your once-in a-whiles shall  
gather, beehive heavy and clean  

once again you shall step out,  
awash in roaring wondrous sheen...

may be
we should be
standing this time

you  
a wall
and I

may be
we should be
after a shower

sipping
each other
dry of drops

may be
pretend
to sleep

then lurch
after each
other's skin

may be
start with
you on a chair

you know
it has been
a long time

days have
passed in arcs
and crosses

wicked schemes
have built
inside me

tomorrow has
an evening
to wade,
a day to
cross, twilight
to break,

may be
I will make it to the
other side of this wait,

and then tell you
how many many
other other ways
we can

may be

Goa Goa Goa
a whisper on my lips

Goa Goa Goa
way she moves her hips

Here at this drab desk
On a drab drowned day

Goa Goa Goa
sings the wind in my hair

two yellow butterflies
in the sun, entwined,
apart, chasing, diverging,
hovering hypnotic
over the first summer
bloom of the trees,

the wonder that is
travel, paving thy
own path in the air
stream, yet finding
each other,
perennially...

we waltz dancers,
we anti-gravity loafers,
mammoth or small fry,  

no repressive impetus,  
no stagnant blot on time,

when light, we glide,  
when laden, we fall

the wayward
bat of slumber
no longer makes
trajectories of the room

dog on leash
used to it

running shoes
walking stick

first water tank
pigeon flap

water tank
squirrel squeak
overflowing

school girls
at the gate,
call out their
friend's name

a scattered,
shrill chorus

fallen hair
comma over
tattered road

oh give it any name,
a martyr, king,
clown, fighter,
warrior, film star,
singer, cricketer...

but tell me
that the road
will last
this monsoon,

that it will not
soon resemble
the great craters
of the moon,

that you will
not dig up here,
suddenly
remembering
about some
buried gold...

tell me, will
I ever say-
*"let us walk
down our
good old
road again"

why does the sparrow alight
at my barred window,

what does it view from
its iron bar perch,

brushing its furtive beak on
the black-painted surface,

a wave movement,
going down its throat,  

a jasmine creeper,
wound to the bars,

buds anew, withered
petals, dew-fragrant bloom,

it sees none of those,
but a habit embarked

on by some instinct,
the sparrow stays

stays stays stays...
and to what urge,  

at a exact moment,
it takes flight

dwindle dwindle
dwindling from sight,

a soul so petite,
mammoth sky...

your hate my friend
rings more true
than your concern
ever did

lately your
devious
cunning and
withdrawn  

darkness
of desire
and lust
bursts

enveloping
you in
lurid
colours

gliding
away from
your tricksy
innards

mimicked,
withdrawn,
bulbous,
your guttered

hatred and
ignorance so
pronounced
nothing

could have
been more
stark
but this

clear, dire,
directed
detest
my friend

your hate my friend
make murky islands,
rake dead leaves,
but make not you

remember the moment
you lost yourself, from
quiet wisdom to animal
stench, unquenchable

your hate my friend
defeated you and
you need no more
defeating within

your hate my friend